Blessed by the Sun
by asa-hanada
Summary: In a Panem very much like the one we know, the Hunger Games continue. Only, in this Panem, people are not bound to the District of their birth and the illusion of freedom is powerful enough to allow the Games to continue for over a hundred years. But false peace earned through sacrifice and willful ignorance is bound to fall apart eventually. (SYOT Open!)


**Blessed by the Sun**

 **SYOT: OPEN**

 **Summary:** In a Panem very much like the one we know, the Hunger Games continue, as brutal and cruel as ever. Only in this Panem, people are not bound to the District of their birth and the illusion of freedom is powerful enough to allow the Games to continue for over a hundred years. However, the false peace earned through sacrifice and willful ignorance is bound to fall apart eventually.

And this year, the year of the 137th Hunger Games, may very well be the last push needed to tip the scales.

 **Notes:** Another SYOT? Yes, although I will wait before I start writing this one in full swing. Three 'prologue' chapters are already written at the time of me posting this, but I will hold off on writing the reapings until either the _Union of the Stars_ chapters reach the Capitol or this one's tribute list is completed.

Less plot-driven than my other story, this one is more focused on worldbuilding Panem, which I neglected a bit in _Union_ in favor of the supernatural aspects. If I ever write any other HG stories that aren't fantasy/supernatural, I'll probably use this world. Because I am paying more attention to original worldbuilding (as opposed to _Union_ , in which I borrowed concepts from another series), chapters will likely come out a little slower for this one.

* * *

 **Chapter 1:** **Surya** **and** **Roswitha**

 ** _Bel Chiere, The Capitol_**

"I don't suppose you can slip your dear older sister a hint or two to play our guessing game - for old time's sake, you know? We did have so much fun wondering which mutts were going to appear or the theme they would try to strike that year. Of course, it would all be unofficial, off the record. Just two siblings having a friendly chat."

Surya's sister turns her chair to face him with a perfectly formed smile and wide green eyes. The chartreuse contacts that she seems to prefer these days conceal any traces of her thoughts, granting her a sort of privacy that she needs for her work. Even Surya has difficulty discerning anything from their vivid sheen.

Beneath the unnatural burst of color are eyes the same golden brown as his own. The color of their eyes aside, however, his sister looks nothing like himself. Where his hair is brown and mostly straight, hers is wavy and ashen blonde, a color she says offers her the air of someone "dead and withered".

"Yours, at least, has some life to it," she told him when he was ten and she, fourteen. It was one of the rare times she allowed him in her room, let alone her bed, to brush the knots out of his hair that he had neglected. She had added, sighing harshly, "You're fortunate enough to not look like a living corpse, but of course you never look after yourself. You should, you know. People will fall over themselves for you in a couple of years."

She is different now, of course. She no longer scowls, for one, despite the chances of him agreeing to her inane suggestion growing smaller for every second he doesn't respond. Her posture is unyieldingly straight, yet her shoulders fall, relaxed in spite of his narrowed eyes.

"Roswitha," he says in a voice humming with annoyance, his brows drawn and lips set into a firm line. "I can't do that. You know very well that I can't, no matter that we are related."

"It never hurts to ask. 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained,' as you know."

Her words cut into him with a bitter sort of sting, making the serious line of his lips dip into a frown. It's their father's old saying, one of his mantras. Roswitha is more than aware of its effect on him, how saying those words is enough to render it impossible for Surya to stay in this room. His father's presence has tainted the veil of amity that stretched between them previously, even if the man's name was never mentioned.

Surya rises from the uncomfortable, but intricately embroidered sofa, careful now to maintain every ounce of grace and restraint he possesses as he leaves. It requires even more restraint to avoid looking at the photo screens scattered around the room. Each of them is set to automatically flip through various family portraits and videos. Surya knows he will only find himself in one of them.

"It was nice seeing you again," he says stiffly as he smooths out his jacket made of white leather. Most of his clothes are white or in pale tones, perhaps with dark or vivid colors for the trim, all courtesy of Roswitha's advice. His sister may be an unpleasant conversation partner with her tendency to impose on others, but her fashion advice is impeccable.

After she told him that white makes his warm brown hair and skin tone stand out, he started dressing accordingly. He never dyed his hair for any length of time, either. Not that Roswitha even remembers she was the one who advised him to do it in the first place.

"Oh, come on now," Roswitha says with an unhappy sigh as she strides across the room. Her heels tap out a sharp rhythm against the marble tiles. "Don't be such a child. Has it not been six months since we saw each other last? Stay awhile. I promise, I won't speak of the Games again."

To support her vow, she turns around and aims the computer's remote controller at the screen. The images of last year's Victor and concept art for this year's Games, as well as the diligent notes and diagrams attached to them, blink out of existence. The machine whirs, signaling its shutdown, and Roswitha faces him again with a satisfied smile.

Surya stares at the sharp angle of her chin framing that smile and cannot help but feel as though he is speaking to a stranger. Rather than reassure, her expressions from the last three years only serve to unsettle him. The face of the girl and woman from his memories was much rounder. Her smile looked more natural then.

Perhaps, in the past, he would have glanced at her imploring expression and relented. Now, however, it's easy to shake his head and excuse himself.

"Another time," he says. "I have to get back to work. I never intended on staying long in the first place."

"We'll arrange a date and time for dinner, then," Roswitha relents, not an inch of her expression or stance indicating the disappointment in her voice. It drips off her words, pitiable, but ultimately too light to be genuine. "Do you mind if I bring Alcaeus along?"

Surya glances at her unmoving green eyes again, seeing the olive branch for what it appears to be, but wondering if he can trust it. With a third party around, she will be less tempted to interrogate him about this year's Hunger Games, but there is not much else Surya hates than to be the third wheel.

In the end, however, Roswitha is his older sister. If not for her ordering one of the avoxes to carry him downstairs struggling and yelling all the while, the one family portrait with him in it wouldn't even exist. They have grown distant over the years, but she is also the reason he returns to this house at all.

He does not owe her his life. Dinner, though? He probably does owe her a dinner or two.

"Alright," he concedes, nodding as he pulls out his MMD1. The slim black device gleams as he turns it over and taps the screen. "When? Where?"

"Always right down to business with you." Roswitha shakes her head, then hums in thought, though the pause is too short to be convincing. "How about Friday night, eight o'clock. At the new restaurant in Rivela. Does pacific coastal cuisine sound good to you? Alcaeus has been wanting to try the new place out."

"Whatever," he says, though he doesn't mean it in the least. The portions may be tiny, but the rich and savory pacific coastal dishes popular in Rivela rank among his favorite foods. Unlike many others, he finds the use of emetron pills or hellebore powder more off-putting than palatable. Inducing nausea and vomiting is nowhere close to his idea of a good time.

Roswitha's smile widens, approaching something closer to his memories of her younger self than her expression from earlier. She watches him add the outing to his calendar to ensure he follows through on his promise, nodding to herself in satisfaction as the device emits a soft ping to signal the addition of a new event.

She waltzes over to clasp her hands over his shoulders when he has tucked his MMD in his pocket again. Surya stares at her right hand with a frown, then shrugs away from her loose grip. It's not difficult; though they both inherited their father's considerable height, he is still taller than her by a good degree and she was hardly trying in the first place.

"I'll see you on Friday," Roswitha insists as Surya finally makes a successful retreat. "With Alcaeus."

"Friday," he agrees, turning his back and walking out of the room. "Give him my greetings."

"As if he wants them from you!" Roswitha calls out in jest, her voice receding as the two turn away from each other. As Surya steps out of the room, he catches the telltale glow of the walls changing color from a medium indigo hue to rosy pink.

"Blue looks good on you," Roswitha had told him once when they were younger. "Not too dark, though, and not too light. Cyan would look terrible on you. But do try blue contacts next time you go out."

He never did, to her disappointment.

The rest of his journey through the soft white halls of the house is made in silence. Half of the walls are made of crystal and glass, the rest inlaid with screens that control the heating and cooling, as well as lighting, systems. Roswitha is the only one who uses them to change the colors of the room, to the best of his knowledge. Although, he probably doesn't know his other two half-siblings, Ferdinand and Lisbeth, well enough to judge.

Surya reaches the foyer, its high ceiling filled corner-to-corner with light from the artificial sky reflected in the panels above. The Capitol's weather is unpredictable at best, so its citizens would naturally want a home that offers a bit more stability. Surya remembers how the soft, gold tinted light eased his nerves as he sat at the bottom of the stairs near the support pillars. No one passed through the foyer except to leave, making it an ideal place to retreat when he didn't want to encounter any of the house's other occupants.

Today, he doesn't let his stride falter as he crosses it.

He was not lying when he told Roswitha that he had to get back to work. With the Hunger Games just around the corner, the entire department is trapped in a constant frenzy of activity. That he stepped out for 'family business' is probably overstepping his boundaries as a Gamemaker with only two years of actual experience under his belt, but Surya couldn't bear to stay in the same room as his father any longer.

At least he won't get marked for it. Not so long as he still bears the Dressler name.

* * *

*MMD = Mobile Management Device; basically, a smartphone

* * *

 **Background Info:**

In this universe, the Capitol was a little wiser and lasts a little longer for it.

In the formation of the Districts, someone realized that people cannot live without hope. Even false hope will do. Backing an opponent into a corner and offering them no way out except through death is the worst possible outcome, for people will fight most desperately in a situation where there is nothing left to lose.

Opening the borders allows the District citizens the illusion of free will. Most of them have no funds and no way to start a new life elsewhere, making it pretty much a moot point. But the fact that there is a "way out" lessens the mental stress. And, of course, the fact that some people do move to find work or start a family in another District makes it even harder to realize the Capitol still controls them with an iron fist.

Each District still specializes in one commodity, making it more difficult to move to certain ones due to lacking the skills to work in another industry or trade.

The Capitol is the only place District citizens are barred from traveling to.

The Hunger Games still select two tributes from each District. Whoever is in a District as of 12:00 AM on the day of the reaping is entered into that District's reaping pool. There is no getting out of it. Other than that, the Games function the same as canon.

I made this AU because it gives a few more character creation options than canon in addition to being a bit more realistic in terms of logistics.

 **Submission Info:**

This time around, I decided to make a single blog for the story on tumblr (hg-blessedbythesun), because having so many platforms is hectic for me and probably the readers as well.

The blog will be worldbuilding posts for the most part, from fake letters and reports to music and aesthetics, as well as descriptions or definitions for all items and names that pop up throughout the story. Just like my other SYOT, you'll also find my plans (chapter outlines, posting order) and progress on there.

 **Rules:**

1\. Fill out the form located below or on my profile and submit it via PM. Please include "Blessed by the Sun" somewhere in the heading.

2\. Reservations are good for one week. If you need to extend it by a few days, PM me and we can work it out.

3\. Maximum of (3) tributes per person.

 **Form:**

 **Name:**

 **Age:**

 **Gender:**

 **District:** (District they are currently living in. If the District they live in is important to their history/present circumstances, you don't have to include alternatives. If it doesn't matter which District they live in, list alternative ones in case I need to move them around.)

 **Appearance:** (No faceclaims this time and I might give more in-text attention to appearance to accommodate for it. I need a general impression of their stature, hair color/length, eye color, and skin color.)

 **Personality:** (Please be detailed!)

 **History:** (It's possible to move between Districts as long as you have an ID and a decent reason for moving, like 'finding work' or 'getting married'. Of course, you can also make a tribute who hasn't ever left their District. Have as much fun with it as you want.)

 **Strengths/Weaknesses:**

 **Reaction to the Reaping:**

(For the following sections, provide as much or as little detail as you want. If you want to leave most of it up to me to decide, just give a brief description of what your tribute's overall strategy will be under the 'Pre-Games' and 'In-Games' sections.)

 **Pre-Games Strategy:**

 **-Alliances:**

 **-Interview:**

 **-Training:**

 **In-Games Strategy:**


End file.
